


you make me say (oh, oh)

by i_am_my_opheliac



Series: imagine (a world like that) [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Introspection?, M/M, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Smut, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 23:16:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15896133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_my_opheliac/pseuds/i_am_my_opheliac
Summary: "When life deals us cardsMake everything taste like it is saltThen you come through like the sweetener you areTo bring the bitter taste to a halt"--Inspired by sweetener - Ariana Grande





	you make me say (oh, oh)

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently the combination of Lia being high on pain medication, bored out of her mind and listening to Ariana Grande over and over equals to pointless smut. 
> 
> I know some people are not into 2nd person - I get it, I used to be the same. Give it a go, maybe? Or not, it's up to you.  
> Also, it's the first time in literal years that I'm writing a songfic, but then Dan said his favorite song was sweetener and I was like "oh, it makes sense".
> 
> \----

_When life deals us cards_  
_Make everything taste like it is salt_  
_Then you come through like the sweetener you are_  
_To bring the bitter taste to a halt_

Sometimes you don’t understand what keeps pulling him back to you. You observe him when you think he can't see you, take in the subtle ways he takes care of you even when you don’t want him to, when you feel like you don't deserve it.  He rolls his eyes whenever you tell him that, a bemused grin on his lips that he tries to hide from you, as if he could ever do such a thing.

He’s so, so good to you. He’s good when he kisses you goodmorning and goodnight, when he grabs the blanket to throw on top of you whenever your feet start getting cold, when he gets the food you like the most and watches you with fond eyes as you thank him with a genuine smile, always grateful for him and his care.

Your Phil is kind, he’s gentle, he’s dedicated.

God, he’s dedicated. He’s dedicated to his games and his possessions, dedicated to the things he care for and the things he wants to cherish. Luckily for you, you fall exactly in the middle of all those categories.

You would know, really, how dedicated he can be, when he spends hours in bed just tracing your skin, lips trailing your body over and over, measured bites and teasing kisses on every single bit of exposed skin, focused like an historian trying to decipher an ancient mystery.

Your body isn’t a mystery for him, not anymore, probably has never been. You let him discover every single part of you right away, couldn’t do anything against the sheer force of his affection. You let him crash against you like wave, and let yourself drown in his love. To this day, it’s the sweetest feeling.

 _And then you get it, get it, get it, get it_  
_Hit it, hit it, hit it, hit it_  
_Flip it, flip it, flip it_  
_You make me say oh, oh_

He knows you, that’s the thing.

There isn’t a thing he doesn’t know about you, about what makes your blood boil and your heart sing. What makes your cock harden under his attention, begging for a friction that you know  

He knows how rough to bite and how softly to kiss, knows how strong to hold you down and the rush of pleasure that leaves your mouth when you see the mark. You want him to leave traces of his fervor on you, want him to hold you down and use your body and never get enough of it, of you, of the two of you tangled together. You want to be his just as much as you want him to be yours.

Laying down for him with your clothes off and your legs open is the easiest thing in the world. Easier than thinking, easier than worrying, easier than letting the people on the outside get to you with their cutting words. It’s so much easier to let his blue eyes roam your body with that appreciative look in them, let his big hands travel from your thighs to your nipples, gently twisting them expertly.

That’s all it takes for you to moan his name and tug at his hair until his face is in front of you, scattered freckles on his cheeks and pink lips that you rush to kiss. Your tongue traces his bottom lip over and over, tastes the flavour of him to add it to your mental collection, a single space in your mind filled with Phil and only Phil.

His hands find their destination easily, a journey they’re oh so familiar with. His fingers are long, delicate and lovely, like everything else that belongs to him. They find your entrance easily, tease you just lightly so, let you anticipate what’s coming, as if you didn’t know already, as if this isn’t a symphony he plays all the time.

You want to push him and tell him to hurry up, want to lose yourself in the taste of him and the feel of him inside you, stretching you open, filling you up and taking you apart.

 _Twist it, twist it, twist it, twist it_  
_Mix it and mix it and mix it and mix it_  
_Kiss it, kiss it, kiss it_  
_You make me say oh, oh_

He’ll make you wait, you know it. Not too much, he’s not cruel; just a little bit, just enough to make you desperate and begging for him.

As if he didn’t know better, as if that isn’t always the case, you wanting him, craving him, over and over until he gives in to your need for him.

His lips find their way down your body once again, let your mouth free to be loud for him. He likes that, you know he does. He tells you over and over, when the sweat is drying on your skin and you’re panting together, that it makes him feel good, wanted. He whispers in your ear to be louder for him, to scream his name and ask exactly for what you want, because he’ll give it to you.

You want him so much it’s almost painful.

It’s a brief relief when his mouth closes on your nipple, teeth lightly tugging at it, his hand raising to finally, finally close around you. If it was anyone else you’d be embarrassed by how hard you already are, how easily his fingers slip with how wet you already are, precum leaking from your tip.

He groans at the feeling and you don’t care about anyone else. You could come just from this, from his mouth and his fingers on you, barely there and still enough. You won’t, because he won’t let you, but you could.

Knowing how much power he has on your and on your pleasure is probably the thing that turns you on the most.

And then his lips leave your nipple to start licking down your chest, then your stomach and down, down until his tongue is poking at your slit, capturing the moisture at the tip. You have to get on your elbows just to look down on him, see the face he makes as he savours you before opening his mouth and sucking you off.

 _I like the way you lick the bowl_  
_Somehow your method touches my soul_  
_It lifts me up to heights unknown_  
_So when they ask, "How's life?" I go_

He looks beautiful, hair sweaty and eyes dark, pupils big enough to swallow the blue of the iris. You almost wish he always looked like that, cheeks hollow and eyes glazed with the pleasure of sucking cock. The only other way he looks better is when he’s on his hands and knees taking it, face pushed against the mattress and open for you.

You love him, love having him any way he lets you. Love having him around you, against you, inside you. You want him close, always, never too far apart.

What would happen, you wonder, if you let him go? Would he leave, would he even let you do that? You don’t think so, but sometimes you’re scared of what that freedom would feel like, what life would be like without him. You never want to find out.

You want him to lock you up so that you can’t run away, because there’s nowhere you want to be that isn’t this moment and this bed, your cock in his mouth and his fingers teasing you once again.

 _And then you get it, get it, get it, get it_  
_Hit it, hit it, hit it, hit it_  
_Flip it, flip it, flip it_  
_You make me say oh, oh_

“Oh,” you say, disappointment coloring the word as his lips leave you. He’s still close enough that you can feel his breath on your cock, warm and delicious and still too far away from when you want him.

 _Twist it, twist it, twist it, twist it_  
_Mix it and mix it and mix it and mix it_  
_Kiss it, kiss it, kiss it_  
_You make me say oh, oh_

“Come on Dan,” he says, voice gravelly, perfect harmony to your desperate whines. “Let me take care of you.”

Then he moves a bit lower and his tongue is on you, licking at your entrance and getting you ready, not asking for permission when you’re spreading for him, always eager, always ready.

His hands grab at your cheeks to open you up even more, and you want to, want to give him everything he wants as long as he keeps doing exactly that, keeps loving you the way he does, so gentle, so perfect, so dedicated.

Your body trembles at the way his tongue is working you over and making you wet, can’t help yourself but thread your fingers through his hair until you’re scaping at his nape. You push his face against your opening, because you know he loves it, loves how filthy it is, how desperate you get for it and how desperate it makes him in return.

So many things you want from him, all at the same time. You want to come on his tongue, want to watch him swallow you down then taste yourself on his kisses. Want to flip him over and sink down on him, ride him in earnest just to show him how good he is to you, how perfect.

But that’s not the plan for tonight, so you will be patient.

There’s no way to tell how much time has passed when he stops, enough to catch his breath, enough to grab the bottle of lube in the nightstand. You lick your lips in anticipation, know the wild look in his eyes as he pushes the first finger in, then a second.

It’s gonna be a quick preparation, an even quicker fuck. That’s okay, though, you don’t mind, You want him inside you as soon as possible, can’t wait to feel the stretch of him.  

 _And then we lay it back, talk the rest of the night_  
_Things that we can light make me say oh, oh_  
_Talking about what you wanna do, whether it's wrong or right_

When he finally lines up with your hole, wet with spit and leftover lube, you could almost cry.

He doesn’t waste any time sinking in, starts fucking you hard and fast, thrusting in and out in a relentless pace, bending your body to get that perfect angle that will make you cry out. It’s not hard for him to find it, hits it over and over without giving you time to breathe. You don’t need air, not when he’s fucking you so good, cock hard in your barely stretched hole, dropping kisses every inch of skin he can reach.

It’s pure bliss, the way your body welcomes him in, he way he fits inside you. You can feel him everywhere and that’s how you like it, want to feel that bit of soreness that always make you feel calmer, quieter, safer with the knowledge that he wants you.

It doesn’t take much for him to come.

That’s one way in which he’s selfish, not waiting for you. You don’t mind, not really. You’re oversensitive, your hole fluttering as he fills you up, groaning as he does so, face vulnerably open. His hips stutter as he empties his balls inside you, his come seeping down your thighs, his fingers leaving bruises that will darken deliciously, for you to look at them for the next couple of days, a reminder of this moment before you can live it once again.

 _I am following you ’cause you make me say oh, oh_  
_Say, I don't know what I'd do without you in my life, it'd be so sour_  
_I'm hoping that everybody can experience what we have in ours_

You let him ride his orgasm until you can’t wait anymore, tightening the hold on his hair to push him down your body.

He’s unashamed as he starts eating you out again, licking his come right from your hole and looking incredible while doing so, lips puckering as he sucks, and bites and licks. You’re so wound up he could’ve stroked you a couple of times and you would’ve been good, but god, he’s sweet.

He’s a sweet mess with a talented tongue and you don’t know what your life would be without him, never want to know, because you love him, you love him, _you love him_ , you babble out as your balls draw tight and your stomach coils and then you’re coming, all over yourself and him as well.

 _When life deals us cards_  
_Make everything taste like it is salt_  
_Then you come through like the sweetener you are_  
_To bring the bitter taste to a halt_

And when you have both gained your breath back and you’re laying in bed together, uncaring of the mess you’ve made because you’re so happy, you wonder how you got so lucky, how you managed to find someone that balances you out in such a perfect way, compliments every way you’re darkness with his light.

You don’t think you deserve it, why would you, you ask.

“Because I love you,” it’s his reply, his face serious as he looks in your eyes but gaze soft and full of love.

“Oh babe,” you start saying, the beginning of insecurity on your lips, and then nothing more.

He silences you with a kiss, then a smile, and when he wraps his arms around you and bring you close to him, you can’t do much but close your eyes and accept that this is your life, no matter how surprising that is.  

 _You make me say oh, oh  
You make me say _ oh, babe

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can reblog the fic on tumblr [here](http://i-am-my-opheliac.tumblr.com/post/177736346889/you-make-me-say-oh-oh)


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